


There in the Corner Stands the Trap

by CurryJolokia



Category: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurryJolokia/pseuds/CurryJolokia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid Bamick bemuses me, so I sat him down and asked: "Why didn't you tell Joe about the collar?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	There in the Corner Stands the Trap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butyoumight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/gifts).



It was selfish. He knew that. But knowing that wasn't going to change his mind.

He'd been looking for an excuse for some time now. And for the smaller part of that time, he'd been able to admit the desire to himself. During that time, he continued on as he had been, changing nothing of his behavior. Zangyack had trained him thoroughly, more than well enough to quash his ability to act on selfish desires. Learning to see them within himself, and to find the privacy of mind to study and come to understand them, was the most of which he was capable. This had been the boundaries of his ability for many years before he was granted the rank of Captain.

He proceeded in his life and his work in the Zangyack military much as one caught within a dream, or anesthetized. It would not have been fair to pretend to himself that he had no choice, or was unaware of his actions. He knew and was aware of each order given and received, each mission completed. He simply didn't think of the distasteful parts of his job as he once had done.

When he was fresh and new, he'd had ethics of his own, a self-formed moral code he strove to stand by in all his actions. Wounding family leaders or their young were acceptable actions only if the alternative were killing them; killing them was acceptable to save greater quantities of lives, or if the alternative were an act of maiming or torture which would prolong the cruelty of a simple death across the remaining number of their years. Elderly were to be assisted as much as was possible without compromising the lives of younger individuals who still retained usefulness for their community. Healthy adults of any gender were to be addressed as equals, and if belligerent, dispatched with expediency.

All of that seemed very unreasonable to him now. He had stood witness to the execution of individuals of many different types, because to do so was part of his duties as a Zangyack navy officer. For some he had swung the blade himself; for others, he had assisted his senior officers or tutored younger ones in maintaining the appropriate deliberation and calm demeanor throughout the action. It felt strange to him, to know that his prior self would have run him through for the acts which he now completed with composure and poise. And to know that he would have just as unflinchingly slaughtered his past self, given the chance, for hesitating to do so.

Radical newspapers and information brokers called the Zangyack military monstrous. But a military execution isn't murder, and constructively guiding a population's development is not at all the same as eugenic racial culling. The radicals see death, and call it wrong; but the thought is too simple, too one-sided, for the real face of the universe.

In the light of the universe's real nature, the simplicity of death ceases to be a spectre worth fearing. He wishes it were more accessible to him, because he could make of it an immediate use. His past self, the idea of a person both sympathetic and moral, is somehow embodied and absent in the person he is now. Now the soldier, the Empire's man, he stands by his duty, his Emperor, and his creed of fealty with all that is in him. At the same time, all that he is wishes for escape, but more realistically spends his time dreaming of his demise. He knows that once, he was his own person, free to speak and act as he wished, and he aches to be that person again.

But he was directionless then, and the Navy has given him the career, the direction, and the strong internal compass which he had previously always lacked. He has gained more than he has lost, and what was lost was valueless. Anyone would agree?

Almost anyone. 

When he happened upon the boy, young and conveniently placed for his peers' attacks, he somehow knew that it was an important moment. He stepped in, pulling rank on the Sugoumin and other humanlikes. He rescued the boy - a mere child. He mentored him, teaching him skills above his peers' ability to learn. He showed his superiors the boy's results, demonstrably full of battle sensibility just waiting to be properly honed. These early successes justified his actions, and he spent more time with his new protege, learning what sort of person he was, teaching him everything he knew.

He didn't understand his own reasoning, but the act of stopping, reaching out a hand to pick up the fallen child, had been one powered by the smothered parts of his mind. It had been the first physical action he'd taken in years which had not been commanded him, or was not part of a basic maintenance of his self and personal responsibilities. Questioning it, or its consequences, was out of the question.

He grew to know the boy, Joe Gibken, very well. And in spending time around Joe, he began to remember what it was like to be the man he had been before Zangyack. He began to remember that there had _been_ a 'before Zangyack.'

Joe was a member of the newest group of recruits. He had left his planet, which he described as arid and spoke of with little emotion, because he knew he left little behind to miss. He spoke of his family briefly and reluctantly; Sid coaxed him to tell more, and, visibly uncomfortable, Joe confessed that of his relations, a younger sister had been his favorite, and one he liked to protect.

In return, Joe said, getting rather amusingly blustery in the wake of honesty he wasn't quite comfortable with, it was only fair if Sid-sempai talked about his planet, too. What was Sid-sempai's world like? In that moment, Captain Bamick remembered how to pronounce his given name. 

He had showed the kid his identification badge when he'd asked, because how many new recruits had the opportunity to peer at an officer's personal clearances badge? They were all curious, which was to be expected, fresh and unrefined as they were. Until the discipline and control of Zangyack was fully branded into them, it was to be expected that most would require frequent reprimands for indulging in independent thought, especially at inappropriate times such as lineups in the parade grounds hangar. Joe, on the other hand, was a natural. Not only skilled in combat, he also showed a natural aptitude for sublimating his own independent desires, and was wise enough not to speak about any of his very limited curiosities while on duty. 

During one of their private practice sessions, when an inquiry from a cadet was less inappropriate, he did express a mildly-worded desire to see Captain Bamick's rank card. Pleased at his protege's tact, Sid brought it out with a smile, expecting simple wide-eyed ambition. Joe had looked closely at the badge, quiet for a moment, and then thanked him. Bemused, he'd put it back, and gone back to their lesson. Flashing his card was routine, a comfortable rut of physical motion, so it had not occurred to Sid that Joe's curiosity was directed not toward Sid's rank, image, or clearance confirmations, but instead to the one bit of data on the card which, to Zangyack, mattered least.

Sid hadn't thought of himself by his given name in several Standard years. Its letters were printed on his identification paperwork, and on his card of residency in the officers' dormitory, so he had not forgotten its look or spelling. Galactic Standard pronunciation codes could have easily assisted him in recalling the sound of its shape. But he answered to Bamick, or Captain, or occasionally when he was quite successful, Captain Bamick. His given name was a silent addendum on his badge of rank, a printed piece of data much like his birth date or age: useful for categorization and filing purposes only. Not pertinent to his duties. It had faded from his sense of self so thoroughly that when Joe asked about "Sid-sempai's planet," Captain Bamick was momentarily stunned into silence.

Then the sound and its shape matched up in his head, and his ears roared as the tide rushed in, bringing with it a tumble of abandoned memories: years upon years before Zangyack, years when he still had a given name and his own compass. The face of a woman that might have been his mother. Joe called Sid by his name and the last chance he'd had of getting out of this furious entanglement died on his innocent lips. Sid crushed Joe to him in that moment, wrapping him tight in his embrace and pressing their mouths together, drowning himself in Joe's breath, driving all of his own from his lungs.

It was a human action, a response to the human feelings of exhilaration and fear which were by now utterly alien to him. That impulsive moment of emotion represented a joyful terror which he did not understand for himself, nor know how to explain or justify to Joe. So he didn't - staring into Joe's eyes, seeing as much confusion as he himself felt, Sid broke away from him, lifted his sword, and resumed their training practice without a falter. In the next days, they proceeded onwards as normal, as though Sid's strange action had never occurred. 

But sooner than later it became clear that Joe had not forgotten that moment, and had instead branded it into himself, deep as his self-identification. Captain Bamick knew then that he had ruined this child, completely and thoroughly. And as Joe's skill grew, and with it his devotion to Sid-sempai, Bamick could see, clear as a nightmare, the path that was beginning to spread out before them.

It happened sooner than he expected. He was there - he was always there, though Joe may not have yet realized with how much dedication Sid remained near him, or ensured that Joe's unit remain near his own - and he intervened. A cluster of children Joe wouldn't kill; a number of Sugoumin he couldn't kill.

They ran. The further Sid wrenched himself from his duties, the looser his tongue became. He felt things he hadn't remembered were within his heart. He feared.

At his side, Joe knew none of this. Sid showed him the rock that he needed, Sid-sempai who would lead him out of the terror pit they had both been entrapped in.

They lasted for a while. Longer than Sid had expected they might. Near the edge of their garrison, they were finally cornered. Joe didn't yet realize that there was no getting past the wall. He was too new, too young, and Sid couldn't make his tongue obey him for long enough to tell Joe of the dozens of failed attempts at defection which he had witnessed - and brought to an end.

This would be just one more.

He told Joe they should split up, that he could hold off their pursuit and send Joe on ahead. He promised they would meet again. Holding back his fear, Joe looked at him with absolute trust. His wide dark gaze was spiked with terror and adrenaline, but he looked up at Sid and trusted, obeying without understanding, acting without arguing.

A perfect soldier, sent to his death alone.

It was selfish to send Joe away, Sid knew that. But knowing that wasn't going to change his mind. They were both going to die this night. And they'd both been fated to die since Sid encouraged Joe's fantasy of defecting from Zangyack. Joe's collar was a death sentence; a drawn-out one, but a fatal wound in any sense of the term. With Sid at his side, he might have lived long enough to make an attempt at removing it, perhaps seek out a rebel engineer who could be convinced to gamble his life by tinkering with the device.

Without Sid, Joe didn't stand a chance. It was selfish. He knew that. But knowing that wasn't going to change his mind. They were both _going_ to die this night. Because of Joe, Sid had one chance, and he wasn't about to let it pass by. If this was just one more night, one more failed defection, Captain Bamick would wake up the next morning and think nothing more of it.

He stood up straight, rising out from behind the scant cover he and Joe had been concealed behind. He smiled, and the light of the muzzle flashes ate him up.

**Author's Note:**

> "Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into."
> 
> "You only need to change your direction," said the cat, and ate it up.
> 
> "A Little Fable," Franz Kafka (~1917)


End file.
